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DARRY, THE LIFE SAVER
THE HURRICANE
"Will we ever weather this terrible storm?"
It was a half-grown lad who flung this despairing question out; the wind carried the sound of his voice off over the billows; but there came no answer.
A brigantine, battered by the tropical hurricane sweeping up from the Caribbean Sea, was staggering along like a wounded beast. Her masts had long since gone by the board, and upon the stump of the mizzen-stick a bit of canvas like a goose-wing had been spread in the useless endeavor to maintain steerageway.
All around, the sea rose and fell in mountainous waves, on which the poor wreck tossed about, as helpless as a cork.
Though the lad, lashed to some of the rigging that still clung to the temporary jury mast, strained his eyes to the utmost, he could see nothing but the waste of waves, the uplifting tops of which curled over, and were snatched away in flying spud by the furious wind.
Hearing a boyish voice that somehow struck his fancy, raised in angry protest, followed by the crack of a whip, and much loud laughing, the skipper of the brigantine had pushed into a caf? in Naples.
Here he discovered a small, but sturdy lad, who had apparently been playing a violin for coppers, refusing to dance for a big brute of a sailor, an Italian, who had seized upon his beloved instrument.
When the boy had made an effort to recover the violin the bully deliberately smashed it on the back of a chair.
Then, laughing at the poor little chap's expressions of grief as he gathered up the pieces tenderly in his arms, the brutal sailor had seized upon a carter's whip, and cracking it loudly, declared that he would lay it over the boy's shoulders unless he mounted a table and danced to his whistling.
It was then that the big mariner strode in and stood between the lad and his cowardly persecutors.
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